When All Else Fails, Seek Professional Help
by Mione21
Summary: Seeking professional help from her main competitor, Hermione pays Severus Snape a visit. An AU WIP. Its a little bit angsty, twinged with desire, and a whole boat-load of complicated. M-rated. Strong language and adult topics.
1. Chapter 1

_This story is dedicated to a very special friend, GothicTemptress, who is my sister in spirit. Since she was the one who guided me to drink from the waters of fanfiction (over a decade of yummy fanfic goodness), I wanted to thank her for such a precious gift. She is such a talented writer, and if you haven't taken a swim in her fanfiction I suggest you do so. Sip from her literary fount, you'll be glad you did. _

_GT, I love you as my friend and family (you are the family I got to choose!), and in fanfiction, you have the highest fangirly "squee" I can produce._

_~Mione21_

_Here is a WIP if you like them. You'll have to hang in there with me, since I have an idea where I'd like this story to go, but the characters I borrowed from JKR may have other plans. Like it or not, please be kind as to review. ;) Happy reading. _

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**When All Else Fails**

_"When all else fails, seek professional help." - Mum and Dad Granger_

Few things ever truly surprised Severus Snape:

Recovering from the bite from Nagini;

Not being thrown into Azkaban after the war;

The (overly-done) fuss brought about by the grand opening of his apothecary;

The fact that four years later, the stream of customers never dwindled; and now this—

A highly glamoured Hermione Granger, the owner of his main competiton, roving the aisles of his store.

Ticking off the list, he believed that he had his list accurate and now up-to-date.

The way the honey-amber sun stretched down the street, but not directly into his large windows (which would be a detriment to the potency of most all of his magical wares and concoctions), Severus knew that it was almost closing time, and his two "customers" were obviously stalling.

The young, the portly, well-dressed though unkempt man had obviously come in after her, possibly hoping for a moment alone to chat her up. Severus knew that the sweating, odoriferous pig had no chance. Sneaking up for a closer look, Severus peered down his nose at the man and grumbled quietly. A flicker of recognition crossed Severus' mind, realizing that he'd taught this man at some point, though the name he didn't bother to recollect.

Pinned beneath the glare of his former professor, the young man let out a small yip as he bustled out the door after realizing he had been caught gawking at the beautiful woman in the next aisle.

This Glamoured version of Granger was so wrapped up in the last aisle that she failed to notice that she was the object of the portly man's scrutiny earlier, nor did she notice that she was now the only patron in his shop.

Her appearance inspired the question of 'what in hell is she doing in HIS apothecary when she already owned her own?'

So Severus did what any Potion's Master, ex-spy, and shop-owner would do... He watched her like a hawk in order to surmise her altered appearance and motives.

Severus tidied what little he had to, since his shop was always kept pristine. It was a fact of great pride for him. He noticed a few finger smudges on the jars as he adjusted the ones set askew by his patrons. He swiped them clean with a soft cloth, and finally worked his way to the front door. With his wand, he warded the door and flipped the sign from 'open' to 'closed' silently. Lastly, he drew the shades down low. All this he did undetected by his sole 'customer'.

Stepping behind the counter again, he watched her profile unobstructed. Her eyes hesitated on the third shelf, closest to the window.

He watched as Hermione bit her lower lip, obviously forgetting herself until the utter lack of noise made her skin prickle-the unconscious response rousing her to come back to her senses and draw her from her thoughts.

She shivered, her head jerked up, and she caught him peering at her intensively.

When their gazes met, neither set of eyes averted. Although it felt excruciatingly intimate on both sides, neither one could quite break the gaze first.

Heat rose to her cheeks, and finally remembering why she was here in the first place. She broke the gaze first, riveting her gaze toward the row of buttons down his robes. Severus cleared his throat.

"Miss Granger."

The moment her surname was spoken, her head swiveled almost comically, thinking he 'outed' her in public only to realize that they were completely alone, and even the window shades pulled three-quarters down.

He stalked around the counter and slowly made his way to her side-the softness of voice he used in saying her name worked in direct opposition to his dangerously preditorial fluidity as he moved in close.

She slipped her glamour off like a silk garment knowing the ruse was for not. Her own cheeks were ablaze in fiery embarassment. She couldn't believe that she'd been so inattentive to her surroundings, and that all of her precautions failed to shroud her identity to the very man before her.

"How did you know?"

The sense of awe in her voice bespoke of how impressed she was with his ability to decipher who she was through her before-then thoroughly successful handiwork. Not even Harry recognized her when Glamoured this way.

Then she looked up to gaze into his eyes again.

She pouted.

Her personal-signature scent gave her away. Unbeknownst to her and long ago Severus swore to himself that he would have to be beaten and branded before he divulged to _anyone_ that he could pinpoint her by smell. Every Ministry event they both attended, that scent sought him out, coaxing him like a siren to come to her. Every time, Severus felt himself getting bashed against the rocky shore of reality upon seeing her with that red-headed...

Her scent was one she must have created for herself, yet never sold to the general populace. Snape thanked some higher power, because _had_ she marketed that perfume, it would be very bad for him indeed. That would remind him of _only_ _her_ constantly, and been akin to handing him a first-class ticket to madness.

"Tsk. Tsk. I will not share that tidbit at this moment. Also, I believe I'm the one in the position to ask questions at this moment."

Her pout deepened at his response, disappointed that she underestimated him.

Severus made a grand effort to glance at a shelf he memorized within hours of setting his shop up for business years prior. His sense of pride only grew. Grinning, he looked down at her, "And why are you so intensively studying what I call the 'marital aid' section of my apothecary? Are you looking to price-fix? Did you miss a possible sales opportunity in your store which had you, in turn, 'case the competition' to steal my ideas? Looking to do some corporate espionage? Please enlighten me." With each question, he watched her redden and sputter like a tea-kettle left on the burner too high and for too long.

Severus noted how she shivered with rage at his insinuations, yet she kept her mouth shut. Closing her eyes and breathing in deeply through her nose, she blew the air out of her mouth; waves of sweet, peppermint-scented air floated past him, almost making him forget that he just threw some nasty accusations her way.

When her golden-flinted brown eyes redirected their gaze into his, she quietly whispered in the very close confines between his body and hers, "Severus, I hate to do this to you, but I need your help."

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_p.s. If you know of a beta who likes this ship, please have them PM me. I would love to have someone beta and britpick this and other stories. ;) Thank you._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to my beta (are you jealous or what!? I have a beta now!) Shaded Silvering Grey._ She is wonderful to take on this particular charity. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Chapter 2

"Severus, I hate to do this to you, but I need your help."

_All right, my list just needed another update_, Severus thought during a pregnant pause.

"Help? What game are you trying to play, Miss Granger?" He squinted his eyes as a smirk began develop at the corner of his mouth. _Can it be she needs someone who still occasionally dabbles in black-market potion ingredients? Needs a little surveillance or something...maybe…a bit darker?_ He mused. "I am a _law-abiding_ man who runs a clean shop. Do your own dirty work." He walked to the door and swung the door wide, pointing her back to her own shop, but she recoiled from the open passageway.

"Please!" Hermione hissed in alarm. "Severus! Close the door!"

He hesitated before pressing the door back into its jamb. Severus tongued the inside of his cheek and waited for her to explain herself.

And again, his eye was drawn down the street. Every time he closed the door, out of the corner of his eye, he could see her shop's sandblasted window. The only window of its kind in Diagon Alley, allowing all light to enter her shop while completely obscuring the patrons' identity at Earth-Mother Apothecary & Potions Shoppe. The deeply etched outlines of a woman lovingly looking down, shielding her chest with one arm and with her other hand cradling, scooping under and lifting slightly, her obviously pregnant belly with an even deeper etched image of a small globe, tiny but recognizable in place of a child. Not one person could call this a scandalous image- it was too pure, too iconic, and so very much like the shop's owner- above reproach.

The sky blue and teal green painted wood frames were in direct opposition to his shop, heavily steeped in polished wood and bronze, the only things other than the glass vials within that glimmered.

He was once again faced with just how diametrically opposed they were as individuals. She was all new, like a shiny fresh-minted galleon to his dingy old knut. She was light, he was dark…and right now was the perfect opportunity to chastise himself on how droll and cliché he had become in his old age.

He watched her patrons come and go regularly when he wasn't busy with his own. Mostly women, mostly young. He had to admit that she had found a niche clientele that probably wouldn't set foot in his shop. Reading the wizarding world's tabloids (but only when they came scrunched into boxes as packing for his glass vials and other necessities), "…Miss Granger's shop is a no-nonsense, highly innovative, thoroughly stocked wizarding shop for the busy witch or wizard who needs a potion now, but doesn't have time to brew for her/himself…." Or better yet, "Taught by the best in the industry, Potions Master Severus Snape, Hermione Granger offers a kinder, gentler, even serene venue for purchasing whatever items you require. Right down the street, no less, from her former Master." Somehow, remarkably, Miss Granger found a way to thrive without drawing from his customer base.

Only she could find her rightful place without out displacing anyone else, though he vowed not to gush, not even in his own head.

_Finally…FINALLY…she found her voice_, Severus thought as she began to speak.

"I have a client. She has taken _every_ arousal potion, tried _every_ unguent, even been through every spell, charm, counter-curse I can think of, and yet she has absolutely abysmal results." Hermione reddened at this proclamation. "I am coming to you to seek your professional help; I don't trust anyone else."

Severus stiffened at her compliment but made no sound in response.

"I just need to consult with you, just a few moments of your time. Please, I would owe you a favor in return." She tried tugging on his Slytherin-strings, even though he knew as well as she did that he was _still _very much in her debt -perhaps forever- unless he were able to save _her_ life one day. That day alone, he admitted, could he ever consider himself paid in full.

"Come." He turned without waiting for her as he removed himself to the back of his shop.

Hermione followed behind him through his storerooms to the greenhouse attached to his apothecary. The long, dark corridor gave a taste of things to come as the fragrant plants peppered the air with their magical potency.

Hermione could feel the warmth, and inhaled the mingling aromas of hearty earthly scents and the delicately perfumed flowers as they approached. She undid the closure of her robes from the heat and she found herself breathing in deeply as the scent of the greenhouse beckoned her forward.

Once she entered the vaulted space of his greenhouse, nothing prepared her for the sheer beauty. Tranquility. Life within its glass walls. It was lush, and vibrant, and truly remarkable in every sense.

This place was -Hermione searched to describe it to even herself- on the complete opposite of her life's spectrum: clinical, sterile, cold. She felt her heart tapping against her sternum, and tried not to personify it…her heart taking notice of this place and either wanting her to acknowledge it, or perhaps begging that it be left in this place for fear of returning to her commonplace life…. She pushed aside her inner-commentary and tried harder to focus.

Without turning to her, he began spraying and pruning the plants he thought most in need and didn't remark as she mimicked him absent-mindedly, working across from him down a short aisle.

"Why don't you send her directly to me? I would pay you a referral-fee if that was what you were concerned about," he prodded, glancing over to her.

Hermione's frown didn't go unnoticed by him. "She doesn't want to be known. She can't afford to have this come out in the Quibbler. It could possibly ruin them both."

His hands halted their work as he took in her visage.

She was still beautiful to him after all this time. Delicate features, eyes that were so expressive he need not delve deep within them to extract the information he needed…Besides, last time he tried that, her defenses were so strong that she retaliated. Upon his last and final intrusion she had somehow artfully thrown him an image he never -regretabbly- forgot: a naked Albus jiggling his dangly bits provocatively. It was quite disturbing and enough to push him right out of her head, never to try again.

Hermione watched his hands resume their work; slowly, methodically. Mesmerizing, she thought to herself as she strengthened her defenses. He had that look again, the one he had before he tried to break into her head, she recalled. She almost grunted a base laugh at recalling the incident and her rebuttal, which surprisingly worked, much to her surprise.

"Tell me everything," He finally bit out as he continued working, "And if you damage that sapling, so help me, I'll eviscerate you."

Hermione felt herself grow rigid at the comment, but softened at the fact that he had not done so already, and that this fact was not lost on her. His allowing her to even breathe in the room was no small indulgence. He had allowed her into his inner-sanctum, and she was now touching his very private things.

Instantly, Hermione felt the heat rise again to her cheeks, startled that she would even think in those terms, yet there it was. How could she not equate this place as an extension of the man himself? She was deep within his private space, asking him to aid her in a very intimate task.

She remembered that while she worked under his tutelage at Hogwarts, that close working relationship was almost intimate but not anywhere remotely close to how she felt here. Perhaps that was because they were in a place common to them both. The teacher-student roles were never in question. They were in a familiar setting and therefore able to focus on what needed to be taught. Learned.

Here, they were not teacher and student. Now they were colleagues. Peers. Here they were just a man and a woman...equals...in a secluded setting discussing their work. Even so, as she scooped a hearty handful of moist compost, letting it crumble between her fingers and around the base of the plant, she felt as if she were about to get caught. She wasn't quite sure of what…doing something naughty...

The thought didn't make sense, but she couldn't help but think it. Sense it. Her nervousness increased ten-fold as she looked at her hands full of earth. Dirty and yet so _not_ dirty. Her head swam in contradiction.

When she found her bravery and her voice, she began to speak and the facts flooded out. It took her more than an hour to explain her situation to the quiet man before her. She rehashed her failed attempts no matter how much magic she conjured up and no matter how hard she tried.

The thought alone was enough to make her internally cringe—_failure…..I'm a complete failure_—the thought wouldn't leave her even as she stopped to consider whether or not she had left any valuable information out unintentionally.

Severus listened intently, realizing that she did nearly exhaust every avenue twenty minutes into her diatribe, only to find himself getting drawn deeper, feeling his skin exciting prickle at hearing what she tried experimentally. Next, he felt the racing of his heart and mind when he heard these attempts were not viable. Over the course of more time, he began realizing that not only was he becoming agitated at this woman's brilliance…_no, at her brilliant attempts…yes…_those attempts were futile. It was on the cusp of painful, and he listened on to her determination and tenaciousness in yet more avenues.

And as he listened, there was one fact he couldn't ignore.

So very _unlike_ the woman he taught, his former student then apprentice, she kept talking about how "she tried-" not how "she had her client try."

Although this might pass for others' brevity in speech, it was so uncustomary _for her_ that each time she used this verbal-shorthand, it was like an ice-pick to his brain. Upon her further uses of this...ommission in verbage...he realized that it was not only a sharp blow to his brain, but also felt like a twisting of sharp metal in his gut.

The Hermione Granger he knew was able to professionally distance herself. She was able to maintain clinical detachment, yet her she was before him- tense, flushed, anxious...desperate...

_No. Please let me be wrong. Let me be wrong. _Severus needed to ask those questions pertinent to her case, in the sheer hope that he was incorrect in reading her omissions, but his instinct started shredding his insides knowing that sense was never wrong. Never.

"Is she physically damaged?" He held his question until her voice trailed off. Her fingers hovered over a flower bud just as she was about to pluck it from its vine.

"No, she was thoroughly checked for any female issues." Hermione replied warily.

Severus forged ahead, "How about her mental state? Is she suffering from any abuse or other past trauma?"

"No!" Hermione snapped. Severus looked up from his pruning at her reaction.

"You might want to review your tone, Miss Granger. _You_ came to **_me_**, so if you'd like some help with this, I will advise you to kindly moderate yourself."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled. "Sorry, I am sorry. This is just so aggravating and embarrassing, I forget myself."

For several moments, the only sound in the room was the occasional burst of mist over Severus' tropical section, but Severus decided, in the spirit of helping, he would try to diffuse the tension. _Perhaps she just wasn't used to the occasional setback_. _Perhaps I was wrong in reading her, and it really was just a problematic client that had her so wound tight._

"You could always slip her a lust potion when she isn't looking." He looked up at her, inwardly proud that he had made a joke, but only showing a small crack of a smirk on his face, only to realize he had royally cocked up.

He felt panic rise inside of him as he watched her face change: Hermione's eyebrows drawing together as unshed tears began to muster. She dropped the buds she held in her hand over the countertop which rolled like dice from the force as she jerked herself toward the door, muttering to herself hoarsely, "I can't believe I came here. I _knew_ he'd laugh me right out! I'm such a stupid BINT!"

"_Stop_!" he roared fiercely. Not only did he want her to stop advancing toward the door, but he couldn't hear her berate herself. Severus launched himself clear over the long table and blocked her path with his body.

His hands gripped her upper arms and he addressed her again, "Don't you dare think I'd berate you for coming to me for help. It is insulting!"

He gave her arms a tiny shake to stress his words. "And since you are the only person ON THIS EARTH who can claim that they were _my apprentice_, I would appreciate it if you would give yourself at least some credit." Without knowing why, he bent his knees and tried to establish eye contact with the petite woman in his clutches.

Finally, he stopped holding his breath when she looked up and then shyly broke his gaze. His stomach returned to its normal place, and he released her, then smoothing the creases he made on her shirtsleeves absent-mindedly, giving one last stroke on each arm before withdrawing his hands.

"Miss Granger, I was only attempting a small joke. Believe me, after what just happened, I can assure you it won't happen again."

"No! Please don't say that. I'm just so sensitive about this that everything has me on the defensive. I need this problem resolved so I can think straight again." Hermione's plea was a small one, but it made Severus wonder why she would take this so personally. Was she such a perfectionist that a small touch of setback would throw her whole world into chaos?

Hermione still felt where his fingers came in contact with her. It wasn't painful, but there was a tingling sensation that lingered. Her thoughts were scattered as she heard him continue his questioning.

"Can she achieve orgasm by herself?"

"Yes."

"Has she ever reached orgasm with this person in the past?"

"Yes."

"A vaginal orgasm?"

Hermione sputtered, "What!?"

"A vaginal orgasm. Not before, not after he is out…when he is inside her, without any other manipulation and they are fornicating, copulating—" He was cut off by her insertion.

"Making love, Severus! When they make love…"

"As I was saying," aggravated on multiple levels, Severus forged on, "when he's _fucking_ her -come on now, don't look at me so scathingly- has she ever come with him inside her?"

"I don't know." She was so quiet, he had to pause a moment to make sure it wasn't his ears playing tricks.

"You mean you weren't specific when asking questions, or you didn't ask?" He asked gently but directly. "Miss Granger, you know why I'm asking these questions."

"Yes. No. Ah!" Hermione cleared her throat. She was visibly flustered and looked like she wanted to bolt from the room.

"Then answer my question."

"Yes, she was able to reach orgasm with…penetration…" She kept speaking through the sheer embarrassment, cautiously seeking and choosing her words, "even if the orgasm wasn't as powerful as when she, ahem, brought herself to orgasm through self-stimulation. But now there is nothing. She feels nothing when they are intimate."

"Thank you, Miss Granger; thank you for your candor. I know that having this kind of discussion with someone such as me must be difficult for you."

Hermione looked shocked. "Now what are _you_ going on about?!"

Severus noticed a plant in dire need of attention, and he grabbed it with both hands. "It must be difficult for you to discuss sex with an old man who taught you for years," Now it was his turn to be embarrassed, "especially since that old man is me…" He wanted to launch himself into his venus flytrap plant, but unfortunately the mouth on the only dionea muscipula currently on hand was only a few centimeters wide.

"Please, I couldn't have this conversation with_ anyone_ else….Do you understand me?" She took two, then three more steps forward as she continued. "And now that I think hard on that statement, I could also say 'wouldn't' as well." She stared at his back as she plowed on. "There isn't another person on this planet, it seems, who understands the world the same way I do. I feel I could tell you anything, Severus."

He spun at the declaration. His eyes were glistening with an expression she couldn't understand.

"Is this client _you_, Miss Granger?" Severus's voice churned deep in his throat.

Silence, then a puff of mist from the sprayers above, and a distant chime from Gringott's clock tower.

And then Hermione's voice:

"Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

When All Else Fails Chapter 3

Nothing but a simultaneous blink of both eyes; this was Severus' sole response.

Hermione noted with consternation that his reaction was so infinitesimal that it was as if he couldn't care less of her truthful answer.

The acid in her stomach had reached critical levels, and she fought the urge to double over.

_I did it_, she thought to herself. _I've just told him my deepest secret, and now if he turns me away, I'll surely die of embarrassment. _Daring not to move a fraction, she awaited her fate. _Will he be my ruin or salvation?_ She went as far as to hold her breath.

Snippets of her past flickered in the back of her mind.

_That day when Ron visited her during her apprenticeship. _

_The feeling that she and Ron weren't alone when they had, what she quietly recalled, "The Talk". _

_The fact that the day of "The Talk" was also the last day she called Severus Snape "Master" out of protocol. _

_Her shock that within twenty-four hours of that conversation, she had been tested by the panel of Potioneers without prior warning, and STILL passed with the highest accolades, feeling like she had been a tiny toy sailboat pummeled in an enormous storm yet somehow miraculously survived—_

Her vision began to blur around the periphery as she stared at the man who held her life's scales at the moment...And just in the nick of time, he spoke, "I will help you."

She gasped from not only from the lack of oxygen, but also from the sheer relief that he was going to help fix her problem. Surely, he would know what to do.

Just as quickly as he uttered the words, Severus was walking away from her, toward the storefront, leaving her with her to battle with her emotions alone.

Hermione was once again reminded that the man had no room for feelings where she was concerned. Or should she say that he had no patience for HER emotions, either thought seemed right from her point of view.

"I will help you." Severus uttered.

He managed to say it without his voice cracking. He didn't crumble before her, yet her admission all but squeezed his heart to pulp.

_What kind of hell have you devised for me now?_ Severus' complaint to some higher power was wordless but the voice in his head crowed it painfully. _Wasn't setting her free enough penance?! Why am I to suffer this again? _

Quietly, methodically, Severus began to pull books from the shelves of his shop. Charmed for low moisture, and the perfect temperature, it was a good utilization for his arsenal of textbooks, guides and tomes.

Although his hands toiled thoughtlessly, his mind went through a tumultuous battlefield of memories of her. This task she just put before him... It was so much like giving a prisoner the threads with which to braid his own noose. Each thread an unfulfilled wish he had had, to be intertwined, meshed, woven into the very thing to bring about his end.

His love was so deep and strong, he could refuse her nothing. Nothing.

_And she comes back into my life to see that she can keep another, even at the cost of my own dreams._

Severus seemed so very tired at the thought, hoping that that feeling was the Reaper tapping on his shoulder, telling him it was finally time to go. But Death wasn't there. She was.

Perhaps Unbeknownst Reaper was her new profession.

Severus dragged his hand over his face, trying to wipe the memories away. He tried to focus.

_Forget you let her go. Forget you let her leave. Forget you love her._

He took the hefty assemblage of text back to the greenhouse and found her at the wisteria trellis; her face buried in a cluster of fragrant blossoms. Both of her delicate hands cradled them reverently. Hermione's eyes were closed and his roved over her hungrily.

It was not difficult to imagine laying her down on the bench, canopied by blooming vines, slowly undressing her there, but he had had enough torture for one evening.

The slamming of textbooks on a workstation jerked her out of her moment of serenity with jarring force.

Without waiting for her to regain composure, he began expressing his plan of attack.

"You will forfeit to me all of your research tonight. I would assume that you have it in your office. Collect it now and return to me. You will make no further attempts to treat yourself. You have come to me, and now you are solely in my hands." His gut twisted at demands…largely unnecessary...and yet, he wanted no room for error, "I will give you all forms of potion in pill form—I know, it is highly uncommon, but I prefer any taste or smell to be eliminated. Proprietary rights, if you will."

"I want immediate knowledge as to whether the treatment works or not." He fished his hands into his robes and using his thumb, he flicked a medallion at her, which she caught. "You know what this is. Use it. I will keep its twin on me. Day or night." The thought of her still disheveled and fresh from the ginger's bed made him nauseous, but he forged on regardless.

"I'll need to know everything. Menstrual cycle, mood swings, attempts, technique," he noted her crimson cheeks gain a darker hue, "anything that would help me help you."

Her hands fluttered toward her face.

"There's no need to be embarrassed now, Miss Granger. If you find yourself not responding to him, but then finding you can't keep your hands from 'having one off' by yourself the minute he leaves, you must let me know."

She turned quickly, and he heard her whispering to the gods in mortification.

Before he realized what he had done, bore down on her fiercely.

"Turn around and face me, girl!" Back was his tall, dark persona, and she was under his command.

"Face your fear!" He growled into her face once she had spun around and looked straight up to meet his eyes. "When we begin the treatments as of tomorrow morning," he breathed, "if you so much as look at a carrot and feel yourself becoming aroused, you have to let me know."

Hermione nodded, less to consent but more to hide her eyes from him.

Tomorrow, if he wanted to know if she was getting aroused, she would tell him. But the way she felt the electric jolt between her legs torment her this very instant, she couldn't possibly admit.

The pulsing ache was such a shock, it took her breath away, and she couldn't tell if the feelings were in hopes of rectifying her problem with Ron, or if was from watching the passion of a brilliant man who was tearing into a new endeavor as thoroughly and aggressively as possible.

Reminding himself that he was the King of Hypocrisy, Severus chastised himself for telling her to face her fears, but kept his cool façade. The words were so easy to say to someone else, but quite impossible to heed. _Do as I say, not as I do_, quipped his conscious.

He collected his books, "Meet me at my home once you have had a chance to gather your research. I will wait for you there." With that, he walked to a side door and slid it open. One jerk of his head and she followed him out, and once it had closed, the door blended into the brickwork of the alleyway.

"My home is the one on the corner. You weren't able to see it before, but you will now. It will be the only one you haven't seen before. I will leave the door open. See yourself to the parlor on the right."

And with that statement, Severus swished his robes and billowed around the corner, leaving a shivering Hermione in his wake.


	4. Chapter 4

When All Else Fails Chapter 4

Through all the rush to grab all of her research papers, Hermione barely noted the deepening purple hues in the eastern sky. She needed all documents she noted silently as she saw the twinkle of a small star low on the horizon.

This was her faint glimmer of hope. '_Star light, start bright'_ her mind called out. A flash of her very early childhood stole across her memories of when she believed-truly, utterly, completely-that stars could grant wishes. Now her eyes were open to the truth.

Snape was her _dark_ star, she thought wryly. She knew where her possibilities and probabilities lay, and they were deep within the infinitely complex mind of one Severus Snape. Grabbing thick handfuls of each stack of paper, she loaded her small bag, each deposit making a huffing sound, bringing each puff of air the scent of canvas from her old tent. Even so, she refused to remove it. There were some things she just couldn't part with, if kept for only for sentimental value.

'Dark star…Dark star…. Oh', she felt the heat rise unannounced from deep within her. So ashamed, she fought to control these feelings as the tingling shot through her, simultaneously up and down from her belly button. The fact that she hadn't had these feelings for months and months made the flickering and lapping of this heat so exquisite and acute she grasped the edge of her desk as they throbbed through her core. _Bloody Hell!_

Hermione winced as she visualized HIM insinuated between her legs, taking her slowly, his thumb swirling small, wet circles right on her—_FFU_- The blinding white light surged behind her eyelids as she shook, her orgasm searing her with both pleasure and pain with its forcefulness made her knees buckle as she nearly missed falling into her chair. She spasms shook her again and again, roughly as she flexed and curled through it.

Finally, she stilled and breathed in deeply.

"Oh, no. No you don't." Hermione whispered to herself angrily after regaining her breath. She had read stories where women found brooding, arrogant, scowling, brilliant, famous men with a dark past attractive. Did she find him attractive? _"Who the fuck am I fooling? Do I find him attractive STILL?"_ Even after knowing what "IT" was all about. What a man wants. What a man and woman do together. What a real relationship is?

What just happened here, alone in her office was just a nervous release, she reasoned with herself. A flight of fancy…a little diversion to take the edge off of her nerves before meeting up with her childhood intimidator.

In reality, there was no way she would be just a notch in a bedpost. _This incident had to be something beyond reason but maybe beyond fantasy too? Could it have been something instinctual? Something primeval…animalistic? Dear GODS! Please don't tell me I'm falling for my own bullshite. He may be an Alpha Male, but he isn't MY alpha male._ Hermione pushed aside her inner commentary, and let her reason put her fantasies in check.

With renewed determination, Hermione was bound and determined not to become some romance novel marysue. The fact that Severus Snape was the epitome of _dangerous sex_ was not going to pull her in.

Yes, in the past she had watched him out of the corner of her eye, but that was purely for learning's sake, was it not? Still feeling the quakes, she glanced at the time, and realized that he would think she was wasting his time.

Hermione studied herself brusquely at the mirror behind her door, other than her reddened cheeks, her body didn't betray what had just occurred, even though it felt like there were tectonic shifts deep in her body with quakes refusing to subside.

She smelled the wisteria before she approached it. Hermione noted that it was a different color than the ones in Snape's greenhouse, but they called to her with their scent just as strongly.

Of course, she knew it was only coincidence that it was one of her favorite scents, even one of the ingredients in her very own perfume, but she couldn't help but relish the fresh air, cooled by approaching night, and this lovely aroma fresh and full, beckoning and welcoming her approach.

If she was brave enough, she might even ask for a grappe or two from his vines, since the lovely scent rolled off of them and draped her as she walked by. They comforted her as she crunched up the pebbled walkway toward the front door.

Such a beautiful home. And to think no one else could see it made her feel such privilege she couldn't suppress it. The storm grey shingled Victorian with white trim. Pristinely maintained; Hermione lost count at how many times she called out the gods names on this day. Hanging baskets with fern fronds dripping low; lush and fragrant grounds that were neither small nor obscenely large. Everywhere she looked in the evening light was brilliant, alive, in balance, cared-for… expertly placed with purpose and spoke volumes of the person who planned and used his garden space to his utmost advantage. Even the fragrant flowers, it was obvious, were in this garden for use as well as enjoyment.

Snape owned lawn furniture. Either this was the most bizarre day, or Hermione guessed she could have been in a serious accident complete with brain-injury induced hallucinations. Focusing on her task, Hermione stowed away any other commentary for later. Much, much later.

When her footsteps reached the mat, she realized that the door was slightly open, and slipped inside as were his wishes.


	5. Chapter 5

When All Else Fails, Seek Professional Help Chapter 5

_Dear (unregistered user), I can't PM you directly. I wasn't sure if your last review was a compliment or an accusation of plagiarism, so if you do happen to find a story even REMOTELY like this one, PLEASE send me the link. It is a whole hell of a lot easier to read these stories than to write them. _

_Now, you've left very kind reviews in the past, so I should consider it the former as opposed to the latter, but I just don't know. _

_This is an open invitation for anyone who recognizes this plot, storyline, verbiage…whatever…to let me know and I will quit writing, remove, edit (whatever is required) to give you what I *HOPE* is a pleasurable reading experience (Granted, that is not always the case). While I do borrow the characters and the main story matrix from JKR, the idea for this an my other stories and wording thereof is mine. _

_I do sincerely apologize if I offend you with this direct letter, but it is the only way to let you know I did read your review, and decided to delete it. I hate the idea that ANYONE would think I stole what was not mine. That is not part of my makeup nor is it my disposition or constitution._

_Now, if anyone would like to review, I welcome it. You can tell me I am a terrible writer. You can tell me I am unimaginative. You may tell me that my writing structure is poor and my jargon stinks to high heaven. You can tell me I am wasting my time and that my mother never loved me, but don't call me a thief. _

_Thank you. _

_ oOo_

His study didn't surprise her in the least. Not to say that it wasn't magificient. Not to say that it wasn't enviable and obviously worth a great deal from the collection to the inviting decor. It made her brain's synapses fire like a string of firecrackers, and her fingers ached to trace every title as she perused.

Severus was nowhere to be seen, so she sat in waiting. She couldn't help but lean toward the warmth of the fire, feeling the tip of her nose and cheeks soak in the heat. Oh, this was a place she could spend an eternity without a second thought. The smell was heaven, for that she was so sure.

Oh_, leather bound editions, the paper, and…._DAMN IT! Hermione's eyes shot open. She could smell him._ What is wrong with me!_ Hermione straightened her posture, realizing that she had missed that clean, masculine, potion master's scent. Its seductive undertones crept into her consciousness and she realized that coming to this place was a monumental mistake.

Hermione shot up out of the chair and was just about to bolt toward the door when she realized that he was standing in the doorway watching her. Her gasp was unretrievable as she wrapped her arms about herself. Her opportunity to run was undeniably gone.

What she saw was nothing short of jaw-dropping. She wasn't aiming at finesse at this point-Hermione opted for speed as she forced her mouth shut.

Her former professor, her former Master, for that matter, was in a pair of plain denim jeans and a loose-fitting black button-up shirt. His collar was undone, as were the first few buttons and _Sweet Jesus_, Hermione exclaimed somewhere deep in her head, she could see a hint of black chest hair. His feet were bare. Hermione did the only thing she could do, and swung her face and body back toward the fire. Closing her eyes, she steadied herself as she felt his approach.

"Miss Granger. Please." He held out his hand in askance of her research.

She turned her head, and her eyes found his, "Why do you do that to me?"

"What. Use your maiden name?"

"Yes." She stated quietly.

"Would you prefer that I call you Mrs. Weasley?" Severus asked, realizing that while he never read a wedding announcement in the papers. Was she married or not? Perhaps a muggle ceremony? Now Severus floundered silently awaiting her response.

"No, I never took his name. I mean why don't you call me Hermione?"

He still wondered if they were wed. "I find that calling you by your first name far too intimate for our affiliation. What would your husband have me call you."

"If he knew I was here, he'd have you call me the Knight Bus!" Hermione couldn't help but blurt out her barb, since he just gave her the perfect set-up. She jerked back in a bundle of nerves as she heard the booming sound.

A single bark of laughter, issued from the one-and-only Severus Snape, punctuated the awkward moment.

Once again, he held out his hand and she watched it jut toward her, another attempt to gain her research. Hermione unclasped her bag and nervously chuckled, "You'll need a few more of those if you want me to turn in all of my homework, Professor!" At that, she crouched down to her knees and began unloading the stacks of paper.

oOo

Severus was glad he hadn't tucked in his shirttails when he saw her glide down onto her knees before him. From this angle, he could see down the soft cowl of her sweater. Even worse, or even better yet…he wasn't quite sure which way to swing in thought…he could see the rounded curve of her bum rise as she bent forward, pulling out stack upon stack of paper.

_This was the stuff of his dreams, for the love of the heavens_, he couldn't count how many times in his fantasies she came to him, under the guise of work of some sort, only to end being fucked from one end of his study to the other only to end up pampered and slathered with ointment in his bath afterward, long strokes of salve on her knees, her back and arse sore from rug burn… his fingers probing her sensitively with other healing ointments that would serve them both as it was the perfect consistency—

"What?" His voice came out more quietly that he wanted.

"I said, 'where do you want it?'" Hermione had ordered and straightened the piles of paper into one large, neat stack. While her hands would never be able to stretch wide enough to accommodate, his larger ones were just able to grip the top and bottom sides, taking her research with him.

He strode over to the settee in the middle of the room in front of the fire. Depositing the stack, he motioned without lifting his gaze to hers, for her to sit on the opposite end. She took an opportunity to scan the room again. Anything not to notice how his right foot disappeared, tucked behind his left knee as he settled in to read. Anything not to notice that she could see the natural bulge where his shirttails parted as he sat.

Hermione watched him read, finally, realizing that he probably had forgotten she was even in the room. His eyes darted left to right at an accelerated pace. At one point, he turned away from her, planting both feet on the floor, still reading and not looking toward or at her.

He mumbled something she couldn't understand, and he walked out the door, still reading, to reenter moments later, carrying a plate with several sandwiches. A teapot and cups followed behind him, depositing themselves on the table before the fire.

Still reading, he took one sandwich between his thumb and middle finger, then used his pinky finger to slide the plate over the satiny brocade fabric of the seat toward her. She took one tentatively, never having eaten alone with him, even in her apprenticeship, but after the first bite, she realized just how hungry she was. She tried to be inconspicuous, but couldn't as she hummed her pleasure around the mouthful.

Severus quirked up his eyebrow, watching her chew with her eyes closed, and wanted right there to dive his tongue into her mouth to share in her pleasure. _This was going to be a long night_, Severus inwardly groaned.

oOo


	6. Chapter 6

When All Else Fails

Chapter 6

Yes, it is true, I've been shirking my fanfiction duties as a WIP-per. Hope this makes up for it. RL was getting in the way, but I've decided to make more "me" time. And this chapter was the product of it.

MeeMeeMee-Meeeeeee! *ahem* here goes nothin'.

o0o0o0o

Chapter 6 - When All Else Fails

At one point he had to lean forward in order to hide the quite obvious sign of his arousal.

Offering her food was a horrid idea. Her vocalizations were so stimulating he wanted to pour hot tea into his lap as a distraction. Thankfully she was a light eater, and the incident passed relatively fast.

Severus read as quickly as he could, trying to ignore the 'hows' of technique while gleaning the 'whats' or possible reasons of her failure.

But he was constantly reminded that she was so close. She shifted and he would glimpse at her hair, her face, her hands….

Knowing that she wrote these quite-often hasty notes, presumably immediately after her endeavors, he knew that those fingers that sought her pleasure and wrote these entries were one in the same.

He glanced at those fingers covertly, noticing the lack of wedding ring (a potioneer's omission…since heat and metal rings don't typically dovetail in retail brewing, unless one particularly enjoyed the pain of heat transference), the well-groomed albeit short nails, the knowledge that those delicate hands had great strength nonetheless. His mind concocting all types of visions of what those hands could produce….

Her eyes were boring holes into him. He could feel her hyper-focus as he read. His years of spying were his saving grace at this moment. Willing himself not to sweat; willing himself not to fidget; not to groan- for the god's sake-willing himself not to sob in frustration, Severus forged on.

The ticking clock growing louder and louder in the stillness of the room was driving deep alternately into his subconscious and conscious alike…akin to the drips of water in applied in one particular torture he called to mind.

He could feel the heat radiating from her. Hermione's breath now a jet-stream across his shoulder and cheek as she angled herself; her knees practically a centimeter from his thigh—close enough to touch—she was singeing his skin, he just knew it. His well-practiced slow movements helped him keep himself in check. He would not allow himself to break down and reach for her.

Upon reaching the last scroll, dated just the day before his entire body began to tremble. His resolve began to crumble as his senses alerted him to an unmistakable scent—a woman's arousal. It was clean and fresh and dear gods…it was hers.

At first he wanted to dismiss it, his mind torturing him with thoughts of her putting quill to parchment while her fingers were still scented with her self-gratification, but then she shifted and it was confirmed that the woman's body was ready, but for what and for whom?

He jerked his head quickly toward her to catch a glimpse of her unguarded.

Hermione's checks were flush, lips glistening and plump from her nervous tick –the incessant drawing her lower lip between her teeth and biting only to slick her tongue slowly over the bite to soothe- her eyes were dilated wide.

Severus wanted her so badly at this moment that it hurt, and so he did what he always did best. He lashed out.

"Your research isn't current, girl. How dare you waste my time!" Severus dumped the research on the coffee table and turned on her leaning into space which only further confirmed her state.

Hermione stammered and arched her back, leaning into the sofa while looking up into her angry competitor's face. "I—I—can-!"

"—You can what? Ms. Granger? Keep facts from me? Lie to me? I've devoted," He glanced at the clock, "over seven hours to your…predicament…and you think I can't even detect when a woman's body is ready to accept intercourse? It seems to me you are perfectly capable arousal. I mean just look at you-"

Severus stopped.

His body loomed over hers at this point, she was dipped into the back of his sofa, breathing heavy, one leg had slipped down, her shoe had fallen off and tips of her toes were all that touched the ground. Her mouth puffing out that same sweet heat on his face, making him gaze down at her only to realize she was not in the least bit afraid.

_Dear gods…. _

Their mouths were both open, panting; their bodies so close as his arms gripped the wooden trim on the back and arm of the sofa, caging her in a compromising position.

Hermione felt the thrum again, her body screaming to be touched, so rare and elusive but in this moment, stripped so bare and raw. She felt her need begging for her logical and ethical mind to bugger off and drop dead. _Fuck this man….fuck him now…let him fuck you…go ahead…._

Her eyes quickly summing up his reaction, his body language, his eyes boiling pitch, she could see his arms shaking like the tremor of wires under extreme pressure. She felt his emotion rolling off of him like heat in the span between them: Desire.

He desired her.

She could feel how animalistic and powerful that want was. And she was witness to how he gritted his teeth against it. She could feel him restraining to the point of pain, and while somewhere in her brain a voice was screaming, 'this is bad, really bad' her body shivered expectantly and readied itself for him; The juncture between her legs now throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

"I touched myself before I came to you. I had to." Hermione whispered. Her face flushed crimson and she looked down only to realize that his manhood was straining against his trousers, hovering right above her core.

"Why?" Severus' growl rumbled through her body like a freight train.

"I was so aroused. I couldn't help it!" She continued. Glancing up again, she could see he was angry, his snarl exposing the teeth on the right side of his mouth.

"Tell me exactly what you did." His hips flexed instinctively almost scraping fabric to fabric, the cloth barriers between them.

Hermione breathed out, "I slid my fingers into my wetness and worked my clit until I had the hardest orgasm I've ever had-" She swallowed hard and continued, "it was so strong it was almost painful but I rode it out, strumming myself with slippery fingers until I coaxed out every last shudder."

Severus' body froze completely, terrified that if he move one centimeter he'd grind himself against her until he came in his pants.

"Did you fantasize about anyone?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes travelling back to his, open wide and welling with tears.

Severus leaned closer, "Tell me."

Her logic and her body warred. To say it was a death knell for her marriage.

Her marriage.

Anniversary.

"Oh, God!" She shrieked, "I'm missing my anniversary!"

Her hands pushed at Severus' chest, moving him just enough to tumble through the gap between his arm and knee to the floor. Grabbing her shoe, she tore through doors until she found herself in the middle of his garden.

In the very center, where all paths converged, she caught her breath and her scent. Her signature scent. Her perfume. All around her, at the center of Severus' garden, grew all the ingredients that made up her signature perfume. She was awash in the lush fragrances that she used to express herself.

Hermione swallowed a million different feelings and Apparated home.

After what seemed an eternity, Severus made his way out to the very spot where Hermione stood and sunk down to sit down on the pea-gravel. He cradled his forehead in one hand as the other sifted smooth rocks through his fingers.


End file.
